


Alfred F Jones' Diary

by CharlieMistry



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Parody, bridget jones diary, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieMistry/pseuds/CharlieMistry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Bridget Jones' Diary, Alfred decides to keep his own diary, after a catastrophic meeting with the perfect derrière of one Arthur Kirkland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this will be based on the film and book, but all in all, it's just a bit of fun.  
> Enjoy!

**January 1st**  
 **Weight:** a little more than it should be.  
 **Cigarettes:** a few more than I should have.  
 **Alcohol units:** bordering on excessive.  
 **Progress on adopting an English accent:** none. Started going uber Texan while drunk.

Oh mannnnn... I swear I'm too old for this kind of shit. My aunt and uncle always have this New Years party but they always throw it on New Year's Day... Like, you know, after all normal folks have their New Year's Eve party.  
So, basically, I'll be hanging out my ass in a room full of boring douchebags while my Uncle Sam tries to hook me up with ugly daughters of his boring friends while my aunt Libby keeps shooing me away from the buffet table. It sucks major balls, man.

"Alfred, darling," Aunt Libby cooed, ushering me into her ikea catalogue house of spotlessness. She pecked me on the cheek then dashed off to make sure everything on the buffet table was parallel to the wall. Or something. I dunno.  
"Hey there, big man!" Uncle Sam barked, slapping me on the back. "What the heck are you wearing?"  
"Jeans and a sweater. And converses. Why?" I replied, hands stuffed in pockets.  
"Who's gonna wanna mack on you dressed like you're in 'The Breakfast Club'?" he laughed. "C'mon, son, You can borrow something of mine, I'll help ya choose something!"  
"Sure, uncle..." I sighed, too hungover to care.

Wish I had cared. I look like a retarded cowboy. And not in a cool way.  
"Lookin' good, son!" He called out when I emerged from my old bedroom. "You'll be fending them off with a stick!"  
I'm not convinced. I'm also going to go pick at the buffet and have a beer.  
"Alfred!" Aunt Libby scolded, catching me red handed. "I tell you every year, those are for the guests!"  
"Hey, I moved out, like, ten years ago or something! That kinda makes me a guest, for sure!"  
She tutted loudly and shook her head.  
"When you're done acting like a child," she sighed.  
"Phshaw!" I laughed uber-wittily.  
Another sigh, then she carried on.  
"Come say hello to the Kirklands," she finished, after a haughty sigh.  
"Who?"  
"Don't be silly, Alfred," she huffed. She then turned around and started talking to some boring oldies. "Liz! Phil! It is so good to see you! Alfred, come say hello."  
"Hi," I sighed.  
"Oh, how you've grown!" Mrs Old cooed.  
Mr Old said something and sniggered.  
"Do you remember our son Arthur?" Mrs Old asked me.  
"Lady, I don't even remember you," I replied.  
"Alfred!" Aunt Libby barked.  
"Arthur, darling, come say hello to Alfred!"  
While she was shouting, I saw...

THE MOST PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL ASS I HAVE EVER SEEN.  
Holy moly, holy cow and holy shit!  
Never before have I witnessed such an exquisite denim-encased jewel... A million poets could try a million years and never accurately describe how beautiful this ass is.  
I need to ask this chick out. If her ass is this hot, I don't care if the rest of her is a mess.  
She's turning this way!  
She's cute! She's hot! She's... a dude?!?!

Aw man! The junk in the trunk has been tainted by a peen in the jeans...  
"Hello," Mr Awkwardly-Perfect-Ass greeted, nodding at me.  
"Ha~" I made a noise. I couldn't even manage a simple 'Hi' as my brain seems to have broken.  
"Alfred, do you remember Arthur now?" Aunt Libby asked me.  
"Are you an underwear model?" I asked him.  
Arthur went bright red and Aunt Libs facepalmed. Oh.  
"He used to babysit you!" she barked.  
"Oh."  
"You shaved his eyebrows off once," she growled.  
"Yes," he confirmed, with a frown.  
"Well, looks like they grew back without a problem!" I laughed, not thinking as much as I probably should have. I drank some more beer and lit myself a cigarette.  
"Alfred!!!" Libs shouted.  
"What?!? Jeeze!"  
"Why don't you go find your cousin? I'm sure he'd enjoy your company," Libs growled, sounding quite pissed. What did I even do?

"Mattie, Mattie, where are you, bro?" I called out, searching the room.  
"Ow, you stepped on my toe!" a small voice squeaked.  
"Hey bro, I didn't see you there!"  
"I heard Mom screeching. What did you do?" my broseph Matt asked.  
"I didn't do shit!" I barked. "She just got pissy because... uh. I dunno but I think I left my beer by the buffet."  
I pat him on the shoulder then walked back to the buffet.  
"-hasn't changed at all since he was a sodding four year old. He's a complete twat!" I heard Arthur chatting to his mom. Wonder who he's talking about.  
"Maybe you should give him a chance. You should make friends with him!"  
"Really? Mumsie, he's an imbecile! He's so full of shit, he could be a loo! He dresses like a retarded cowboy and talks like an ape. I don't want anything to do with Alfred F Jones!"  
"Hey, whaddayaknow? I already finished my beer," I laughed awkwardly.

And at that point, I went home, put on my snuggy and a movie, while downing all the beer I could find in the fridge.  
The chick in this movie got me thinking, so I have decided to use this diary Mattie gave me for Christmas to better myself. As that jerky limey has actually managed to make me, Alfred F Jones, feel like a loser. I will stop smoking, I will stop drinking, I will learn to fit in with the locals and, most importantly, I will get myself a smoking hot girlfriend. Yeah, you heard me, _girl_ friend!  
None of this would've happened if he didn't have such a sweet ass.

~

**January 2nd**  
 **Weight:** Fuck.  
 **Cigarettes:** Fuck  
 **Alcohol** : Never drinking again.  
 **Progress on adopting British accent:** Never talking again.

Ben and Jerry, how you doin'? 

**~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawl, Alfred's brain is such a weird and fun place.

******January 3rd  
** **Weight:** I don't actually know. Frickin' metric system.  
 **Cigarettes:** Enough to set off a fire alarm and get everyone evacuated from work for a while. Fuck!  
 **Alcohol:** Is Root Beer alcoholic? If so, a lot. And what about wine spritzers? If so, still quite a few.  
 **Progress on Adopting British Accent:** Non. I 'ave actually started picking up an accent au Francais. It is très sexy.

So, after all the fun and festivities of the festive season, I am back to work. And in my newfound drive to improve myself, I think I will actually do some work. Maybe.  
My supervisor is kind of a dick. His name's Roderick but I call him Rod the dick (but not to his face... okay, sometimes, when I sort of forget to turn on my inner dialogue filter).  
Today, he's being even more dickish than usual. He probably didn't get invited to any new year's parties, and, as a result, is taking it out on me.  
It's not my fault that I can't entirely remember what I'm supposed to be doing. Heck, I'm not even sure what my job title is. I just turn up (usually), dick about at a computer and sometimes answer the phone. But right now, Dick Rod here is giving me a lecture about efficiency. Which, if you ask me, is a totally inefficient use of his time.  
I yawn loudly and he just sort of flails his arms in the air and storms off. Good riddance. Now I can get back to working hard, doing... ummm... Maybe I'm meant to be making a PowerPoint presentation?

As I type nonsense that may as well be Lorem Ipsum; I stop when all my senses are shaken by an absolutely devastatingly attractive bastard, who happens to be my boss. Francis Bonnefoy. As if my sexuality weren't under enough scrutiny already. The man just oozes sensuality. He's got this beautiful flowing hair, chiselled features, really enviably stylish facial hair, gorgeous saphire blue eyes and (Jesus H Christ, I was next to him at the urinals once and I _accidentally_ looked) even his cock is attractive. And he's French. Which, apparently, turns me on something fierce.

He says "bonjeour" as he struts past me to the coffee machine. I say "good morning, sir" really loudly then try to melt into the keyboard with embarrassment.  
Fortunately, I'm saved by the bell (That's a saying, by the way, not just a tv show that I may or may not base my life on). I pick up the phone and, like clockwork, it's my homeboy Mattie, calling for advice about his weird girlfriend and her psycho family.  
 _"I seriously think that her brother is going to kill me!"_ He cries.  
"Why? You knock her up or something?"  
 _"No, just he's, eh, a little on the fiercely protective, bordering on incestuous and creepy end of the scale!"_  
"See man, this is why I stay single."  
 _"I thought it was because you scare everyone off with your crazy hero stuff!"_  
"Hey, fuck you!" I barked. Then I noticed that everyone was looking at me. "Uhh, thaaaaank you. Thank you for your call, Ms Bradshaw... Oh, I can call you Carrie? If you insist! Thank you again for your call. Okay, bye!"  
I put the phone down and everyone's still staring.  
"What?"

So, after that disastrous day at work, I meet up with my modern family at a bar.  
The main three of us are better known as the Awesome Trio. Because we are awesome. And Mattie's here too because, uh... I dunno. Just because.  
Gilbert, albino megalomaniac playboy philanthropist (or so he likes to think) starts the meeting the same way he usually does. By calling Matt a pansy, me a homo and Anderson by his name. As per usual.  
Then Anderson swears a lot about nothing in particular. As per usual.  
Then I tell them to both shut the fuck up. As per usual.  
Then Mattie begs us all to stop fighting. As per usual.  
Then we all laugh at him. As per usual.  
Then we get shitfaced and whine about chicks. As per usual.

**~**

****January 4th  
**** **Weight:** Is "slab of lard" a weight measurement?  
 **Cigarettes:** Trying to burn off excess weight. Ummmm... yeah, that's my excuse.  
 **Alcohol:** Enough to drown out all the cigarettes.  
 **Progress on Adopting British Accent:** Nope, Canadian today. Been listening to a lot of Alanis Morriset.

I'm miserable and I want a girlfriend. 

PS: Rod the dick called me a philistine. I don't know what that means but I think he may have been hitting on me. Thus extreme depths of despair.

**~**

****January 5th  
**** **Weight:** I sort of threw my scales out of the window yesterday. Whoops.  
 **Cigarettes:** Like twenty or something? V v v proud of myself.  
 **Alcohol:** Only a couple of beers.  
 **** ~~Progress on Adopting British Accent:~~ Fuck that noise!

Oh my god. So, Rod the dick was still being a dick when I arrived (only twenty minutes late, get over it!) but he wasn't hitting on me which was great.  
But then... eek! Francis overheard and came to my defense! He even called me a valuable member of the team. Oh my god!

So, yay and stuff. But wait, there's more!  
After that, he winked at me. THAT'S NOT ALL.  
Later on, I was in the stationary cupboard, pretending to look for a stapler. He came in, gave me this really sexy smile then squeezed past me, grabbed a box of pens then I swear he touched my butt. I don't know if he meant it or not but it happened (I think) and that's going to satisfy the spank bank for a while.

If Gilbert or Anderson ask, I'm telling them he's a chick. Besides, Francis is a whatchumacallit... ummm... it's a bisexual name, right? Something like that, I'm sure. Baby in Dirty Dancing, her real name was Francis... Not that I know the film by heart or anything...  
That and I bet Francis would look frickin' hot in drag.  
~


End file.
